A Thinning Hope
by kris250
Summary: Harry is captured by Voldemort, and can either tell the Order's secrets, or die. So what else is new? Will the Order come to the rescue? Or someone else? Will Harry even need them? This is written in joint with other authors, and we're looking for more!
1. So It Begins by jumpballgirl

**This chapter was written by Erin, penname jump-ball-girl

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**A/N:** This is going to be interesting that's all I can say. Kind of different from my usual writing... so it may not be updated as often. Well here goes!

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Disclaimer: I own none of the things that you recognize. J.K. Rowling most likely owns the rest. Yeah.

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Chapter One  
  
Harry stood in front of Voldemort keeping his mouth tightly shut and that defiant look in his eyes. It was his last chance to tell of the secrets of the Order. His messy hair stood straight up, more unkempt than usual, and just like the person who's head it is on, will not comply to what is wanted. Harry had been in these chambers since the beginning of the summer, probably a few weeks, he'd lost count.

"This is your choice, Potter, life or death, forever in darkness or freedom," the Dark Lord warned, "Tell me what you know."

"Never." He replied hoarsely before spitting at him.

"Fine. You chose the path. You will be forced to tell me any way. You may take it from here my loyal servants," Voldemort said as Harry was carelessly thrown to the cold, rock floor. At least a dozen cloaked figures in masks closed in on him. In union, they raised their wands and muttered different spells and he screamed in pain.  
  
!?!?!?  
  
Dumbledore sat at his desk watching the morning light stream into his gloomy office. It had been a month ago since Harry Potter had taken and not found. Severus had been called around the same time and hadn't been seen since. Everything had gone downhill from there. Death Eater attacks had been countless and hope was diminishing quickly. Everyone assumed Harry was dead. With all of the turmoil, people were beginning to think if the Boy Who Lived didn't survive, how can the rest of us? But Albus Dumbledore knew better, even if the hope was almost diminished. His faithful potions had been sending him signs. He was still worried, of course, because the messages were getting grimmer and grimmer. At that very moment, an owl flew in with a very small piece of paper clutched in its beak. The headmaster took one look at it, put his head in his hands for a moment, stood up, walked over to the fireplace and threw a pinch of Floo Powder in. The flames turned green, and as he stepped in, he muttered, "Number 12 Grimmauld Place." The torn paper flew off the desk and twirled down to the floor where it rested with the word _Condemned_ clearly showing.

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**A/N again:** I can't promise much except if I keep going, the next chapter will definitely be longer.  
Erin

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Round Robin Ground Rules:

1. Have fun!

You MUST email the chapter to one of us (kris250 or jump-ball-girl).

Must stay PG-13 or under.

Absolutely NO SLASH whatsoever.

Tell us if you want to do it before writing.

No changing anyone else's chapter.

No swearing (except for 'D').

No Mary Sues

No Azkaban trips for the 'Golden Trio'

Stick to the books! Cross- reference (we can do this for you). A great site for doing this is the Harry Potter Lexicon

If you write a posted chapter, feel free to put the story under your penname unchanged.

Follow the basic format of this chapter.

We may edit your chapter some with your approval.

A list of the rules must be on the chapter.

You must sign the chapter with at least your penname.

Any rule we forgot may be added at any moment, and if you think we forgot something, speak up! It will be taken into consideration.


	2. Meeting of the Order by kris250

This chapter was written by Kris, penname kris250.

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Disclaimer: I own none of the things that you recognize. J.K. Rowling owns the rest.

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An hour later, Dumbledore sat at the head of a long wooden table and looked at the worried faces around him. Everyone was worried about Harry, and it showed on the faces stretched with worry. He took a deep breath, and called for attention. "I'm sure you're all wondering why I called this meeting."

A few heads nodded in agreement.

"It is about Harry Potter."

Noise was instantaneous, and questions buzzed across the room. Dumbledore held up his hand. "The reason I have called this meeting is to see which of you are willing to go on a rescue mission into Voldemort's fortress."

Tense silence echoed throughout the room as Dumbledore surveyed his shocked comrades. He wondered who would be the first...

"You are mad." Ah, Kingsley, thought Dumbledore. The man was quiet, but spoke up when he deemed the situation necessary.

Dumbledore smiled. "You would be astounded at the number of times I've gotten that."

"Harry Potter has been missing for three days. No one's ever lasted that long in the Dark Fortress! It's a wonder the Deatheaters didn't murder him on the spot!" Kingsley said.

"Ah, but they didn't. Why? My sources say that he is being... interrogated about the Order."

"Interrogated! Honestly, Dumbledore, you know as well as everyone else sitting in this room does the full meaning off the word interrogating! It merely means that there wasn't enough time to murder him yet!" Molly Weasley said. She was nearly hysterical with grief.

Dumbledore nodded. "As you just said, Molly, he is not dead yet. That means that there is still a chance to save him."

"To what degree and purpose, Dumbledore!" Kingsley yelled. "The one- mark the word 'one'- time we have ever rescued someone from the dungeons of the Dark Fortress, the man was stark raving mad with torture! How do you know Harry won't be the same?"

"My sources tell me that he is still sane, but nearly beaten."

"'My sources'- how do you know that your 'sources' are correct!"

"I would trust Severus with my life, as I have said before."

"How do you know that he hasn't been found out? The enemy could be feeding you straight lies!" Both men were now on their feet. "They could be leading us all into a trap!"

There was now an odd fire in Dumbledore's eyes. "What kind of fool do you take me for?" He asked. "Do you think I do not have some kind of charm that prevents forgery on the parchment I send Severus? Do you think that I do not have some means of making sure that it is the same parchment I sent him?"

Kingsley seemed flustered. "I- Dumbledore- I didn't mean to imply- I- well." He gathered his composure together. "Even if your sources ARE correct, and Potter IS still sane, and we DO make it into the Fortress, the chances are one hundred to one that we'd get out of there alive. A hundred to one, Dumbledore! Are you seriously willing to sacrifice precious members of our Order to go on a crazy rescue mission that will fail before it even begins!"

Dumbledore's eyes flashed. "Sit down and listen to me Kingsley, and listen to me well." Kingsley obliged. "Have I ever led anyone into danger without reason?"

Reluctantly, Kingsley muttered, "No."

"And have I ever done anything without a just cause?"

Again, Kingsley shook his head.

"And have I EVER been wrong?"

Kingsley looked up. "Actually, yes you have."

Dumbledore nodded. "Exactly. Which goes to show that everyone can make mistakes. And Voldemort's mistake was that he didn't kill Harry on the spot. A mistake that I intend to make sure he doesn't correct."

With those last words, Dumbledore sat down and listened as the many voices of the Order argued over the fate of Harry Potter.

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Harry lay on the floor of his tiny cell, panting. He slowly tried to calm down his fast beating heart and silence his screaming muscles. He stilled as he heard many footsteps. Had the Deatheaters come to fetch and torture him once more? The heavy cell door opened and, to his surprise and relief, another prisoner was thrown roughly into Harry's cell. Harry strained to pick himself off the floor and take a peak at the newcomer, but the pain was too unbearable. He had only enough time to make out the vague shape of a girl before all went black.

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**A/N:** Okay, now that that's done, we need another writer. Come on, any takers? You know you want to!

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Thanks for the reviews!

* * *

Round Robin Ground Rules:

1. Have fun!

2. You MUST email the chapter to one of us (kris250 or jump-ball-girl.

3. Must stay PG-13 or under.

4. Absolutely NO SLASH whatsoever.

5. Tell us if you want to do it before writing.

6. No changing anyone else's chapter.

7. No swearing (except for 'D').

8. No Mary Sues

9. No Azkaban trips for the 'Golden Trio'

10. Stick to the books! Cross- reference (we can do this for you). A great site for doing this is the Harry Potter Lexicon.

11. If you write a posted chapter, feel free to put the story under your penname unchanged.

12. Follow the basic format of this chapter.

13. We may edit your chapter some with your approval.

14. A list of the rules must be on the chapter.

15. You must sign the chapter with at least your penname.

16. Any rule we forgot may be added at any moment, and if you think we forgot something, speak up! It will be taken into consideration.


	3. A Failed Rescue by Fanta

The world was spinning as the young woman sat up, every bone in her body aching, the thoughts in her mind swirling like meaningless jargon in her pounding skull. As she placed one of her trembling, grimy, and pale hands on her cheek, she winced in pain. She brought it away from her face and grimaced. It was sticky, and she knew what that meant.

Thoughts came rushing back to her as she closed her eyes—not that it made a difference, for it was too dark to see in the musty prison cell anyhow. She recalled how she had shocked, scared then infuriated when Harry had been reported kidnapped by Voldemort. Like a motion picture (not that she even knew what those were), she practically saw each of the movements she had performed in the past forty-eight hours: how she had locked herself in her room for twenty-four hours, refusing to come out when she had heard that he was missing. How, mind made up, she had, in the dead of the night, swiped Charlie's old Cleansweep, and flown to Voldemort's fortress and (using a great deal of stealth on her part) gotten into the castle. Everything had gone fine until forty Deatheaters had appeared out of nowhere, surrounding her, and she had been taken to the dark lord himself for questioning. She blinked stupidly—obviously that was how she had gotten into the state she was in…from Deatheater "persuasion".

She tried to stand up and immediately fell over, her bones burning as if they were on fire. Blinded by pain, she groped aimlessly for her wand that had previously been in her back pocket and found nothing. Not quite surprising, considering the fact that she had been tortured for the past few hours by Deatheaters who would want her anything but armed. If her head wouldn't of been throbbing so, she probably would have thought of that.

If only it weren't so _dark!_ Oh why had she followed Harry? For a good three hours she tried to convince herself that Harry wasn't worth it—he would escape by himself, she was only his friend, and Ron and Hermione hadn't seemed too eager to do this, he would rather her be safe—but no matter what she did she just couldn't persuade herself that dying for Harry wasn't worth it.

The fact was, she loved him.

She tried to run her fingers through her waist-long hair, now matted with sweat and blood from her torture session. She missed the way it shimmered like fire in the sun and the way it used to smell of strawberries. Before she had always thought it too bright, such an ugly color, made her look too much like her entire family, but now, with her not able to see it, she realized how much it actually meant to her. In fact, maybe things would be better if she could just see the crimson glint on her once-silky locks.

Determined to try again, she hauled herself off of the filthy stone floor, and strained her eyes to see anything in the pitch-black cell. The air smelled of rot, decay, and death, and, as one of her fingers felt a wall, she felt slime.

She stared intently at her surroundings and finally glimpsed the tiniest sliver of hope—a two-inch by two-inch square in the steel door from which she had come, the air in that area about three shades darker from that of the cell, obviously leading into the hallway and back into the evil palace.

Hope swelling in her chest like a balloon, she stumbled on aching legs across the room, her goal the slot in the fortified door.

Suddenly, she was falling. Her hurting mind took several seconds to process the fact that she had just tripped over something lying on the ground, and she barely caught herself without gaining a concussion in her already-damaged head.

Now on her knees, she timidly crawled to the object which she had tripped over and felt it with wary hands, almost afraid to find out what it was…a rotting corpse? A sleeping monster?

No…it seemed to have clothes on…and it was…breathing…

She hardly contained a scream as a rough hand shot out and grabbed her own. Her head swam and she knew her face got so pale that it resembled a vampire's.

But then…she remembered those warm, rough hands. Not that she had ever held them in a romantic way (he would never think of her that way), but in friendly ways yes. She lived for the touch of those hands, and spent minutes just staring at him when he wasn't looking at her.

"Harry?" she questioned in a voice hardly above a whisper, hardly daring to hope.

The person sat up, and she could practically see his perfect face, raven hair, sparkling green eyes, jagged scar…

"Ginny?" he whispered hoarsely.

Ginny suddenly found those warm, protecting arms about her. She hugged him back with all her strength, and obviously so did he, for she felt her ribs cracking. Not that she cared. It was obvious they were both holding each other for reassurance—for the other, and for themselves.

Suddenly she realized that the back of Harry's cloak was sticky as her face was. Panicking, she felt his chest and found sticky patches and gaping holes in the fabric. Finally she gingerly touched his brow, where the scar that caused him so much pain was, and felt a gaping wound across it. As she touched it, she felt him wince and pull away a bit.

After several seconds, when she could trust her voice, Ginny whispered, "Harry…what have they done to you?"

She heard a forced, mirthless chuckle and he replied, voice bitter, "When I refused to tell them anything, they decided the Cruciatus Curse wasn't good enough, and they decided to try something else."

"Oh…Harry…" Hands trembling, she traced his jaw line, trying to comfort him.

He stiffened—dang! she thought, I forgot he hates pity in any form—and pushed her hand away. "It's nothing…really…besides, all that matters is that I didn't tell them anything."

She tried to force a smile that she didn't feel, "Well…neither did I…"

She rapidly realized her mistake as she felt him leap to his feet and snarl, "They hurt you??? Why, those bastards!"

She felt for one of his hands that was curled into a fist and gently pulled him back into a sitting position next to her.

Although he sat, he still didn't relax, and suddenly demanded harshly, "Why are you here anyway? You're in danger! You could be killed!!!"

Ginny's eyes widened and timidly, she answered, "Well…I had…to come…I had to help you…"

Harry didn't seem to notice her fearfulness, and yelled out, "_WHAT????_ How could you put yourself in danger like that? This is my problem, which I have to defeat!" she flinched and looked away, and hardly heard as he whispered, voice full of raw emotion, "…and I couldn't live without you…"

Her stomach fluttered at his words, and she whispered, "Oh Harry…that's why I came…I would have rather died to try and find you than lived for the rest of my life without you because I wasn't brave enough to find you…I'd die without you, Harry…"

But her words were cut off as she felt his warm mouth on hers. All of her sensible thoughts were immediately sucked from her head, and she could only feel his lips and love him and his touch…

After a few seconds they broke apart and were subject to a heavy silence. When ten seconds of silence had gone by, they both blurted out at the same time, "I love you."

And then the kissing started again until neither of the couple was able to continue from fatigue.

As Ginny closed her eyes and snuggled up against Harry and slowly drifted to sleep, her last thoughts were that, no matter if she was tortured to death on the morrow or put under the Imperius Curse and forced to kill her entire family, she had made the right decision when she came to find Harry.

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Okay then…hope that was acceptable and didn't have too much fluff—thanks!

--Fanta


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